


Hello From the Other Side

by losterthanlife



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Spoilers for Season 6 promo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losterthanlife/pseuds/losterthanlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s disgusting really – these words they use when they’re falling apart, clawing at the feelings they can’t ever bother to share when it could actually change things."</p><p>Ian visits Mickey in prison. Because I don't trust the writers to handle the Season 6 scene appropriately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello From the Other Side

“What’s wrong?” The words are spilling from Mickey’s lips before the receiver’s even off the cradle, but then he’s jamming it to his ear, his eyes scanning the glance frantically. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It’s bullshit, Mickey knows it right away, because Ian’s looking down at his hands through the glass and won’t make eye contact.

“Thought you had therapy on Thursdays.”

“I do.” There’s a moment, ever so brief, where Ian makes eye contact with him just then. His eyes are wide, but distant.

“Today is Thursday,” Mickey says, feeling all at once childish and irritated.

“I have something to tell you, didn’t figure it should wait.”

Mickey fidgets on his chair, sliding forward. He hates the way his chest tightens in anticipation. _You’re such a fucking girl._ “Shoot, then, Gallagher.” They lock eyes then, and Mickey can’t stop his lips from twitching. “No pun intended, asshole. Tell me.”

Ian breathes deep, and in his exhale, “I got a job.”

“No shit? Where at?”

He watches Mickey from under his eyebrows for a long moment, as if expecting something more. “Cleaning up undergrad puke in the hallowed halls of Lip’s dorm.” Then his eyes shift, his fingers knotting up in the cord of the phone. “Guess it’s about as glamorous as life gets for a psychotic manic depressive who never graduated high school.”

“Hey. Stop it, Gallagher. I’m proud of you.”

There’s a certain helpless sort of expression in Ian’s eyes then, because he still can’t take a compliment to save his fucking life. “Don’t bother. I’m not taking it.”

Mickey blinks stupidly at him. “Why the fuck not?”

“The pay’s…decent, I guess. And I’d get a bed there, and Lip said that he’d help me study for a GED, if I wanted. I’d have to find a therapist there, and a pharmacy. It’d be full time, and the guy said I’d probably have to work overtime most weekends and overnight, maybe, too.”

He meets Mickey’s eye then, and now it’s Mickey who can’t look at Ian. Because he gets it, now, why Ian won’t take the job. “How long’s the train ride from the Ivy Tower to this shithole, anyway?” He tries to laugh, but it catches in his throat.

“Bout three hours.” Six hour round trips for half hour visits. If he’s even free during visiting hours, if the trains even run at that time. _If, if, if._

“Guess I’ll have to tell the warden to forget about working on that conjugal visit for me, then.”

Ian doesn’t laugh, his brow furrowing. “I told you, I’m not taking it. There’ll be something else.”

Mickey’s breath escapes his lips in something that sounds more like a whimper than an exhale. _Fuck_. “I got something to tell you too. Don’t bother coming back here again. I’m taking you off my guest list when we’re done here. Take the job or don’t, but don’t come back.”

“Mick…Mickey, what the fuck are you doing?” Ian leans forward, his free hand pressing against the glass. “Mick, don’t do that. You – you can’t do that.”

“The hell I can’t.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Mickey shakes his head, biting his lip. “I mean it, Gallagher. I been thinking about it, and…I’m done. I’m gonna do this by myself from now on.”

“No! Mickey, come on…Mickey.” He repeats his name, his eyes wide, until Mickey holds his gaze. “I _love_ you.”

 _I fucking love you so much more, you asshole_. “Funny you only have those words when you think they’ll get something out of me.”

“Fuck you.”

Mickey nods softly, his tongue trailing over the front of his teeth. Ian’s hand on the glass balls into a fist, his fingernails digging into his palm. Mickey’s own hand inches toward the glass before he can stop himself, his arm aching at the thought of grabbing Ian’s hand in his own, uncurling his fingers and trailing his lips across his palm. There’s only inch-thick glass between them, but it might as well be an ocean, for as distant as they feel in this second.

“I know why you’re doing this,” Ian says into the phone between gritted teeth, “You’re trying to force me to take the job. Well _fuck you_. That’s _my_ decision.”

“ _Your_ decision?” This is the last moment, Mickey feels it. It’s the very last chance he has to stop this. But he won’t. “So we’re back on that? It’s your decision to take the job, it’s your decision to go to therapy, to take your meds, to not be so fucking crazy…it’s your fucking decision to dump my sorry ass because you think I can’t take it. Ball’s always in your fucking court, isn’t it?”

He scoots his chair back, the metal scraping on the floor and earning a glare from the guard at the door. “That’s not fair,” Ian says, his voice watery in the phone.

“You’re right, it wasn’t. But you still did it. Look, Ian, I gotta go.”

“So that’s it? You’re just…this is it?”

If Mickey was a stronger person, he’d hang up the phone and walk away. He wouldn’t need to answer with anything more than his actions. But as it is, Mickey Milkovich is a little bitch, so he slides his chair forward. “You’re a little bitch, you know that?” He presses his palm flat against the glass, squishing out his fingertips. “Come on,” he orders, nodding his chin at Ian’s fist.

Slowly, his eyes bearing into Mickey’s own, Ian uncurls his hand, lining up his fingers with Mickey’s own. Mickey’s hand is wider, but the tips of Ian’s fingers crest Mickey’s own.

“I want you to take the job,” Mickey says. Ian opens his mouth to protest, but Mickey shakes his head. “No, you listen to me, Gallagher. We’ve been a couple of fools, alright, acting like this is anything more than a waste of both of our time. You’re there, I’m here, it’s never gonna be more than that. Sooner or later, I’m gonna look through this glass and see a stupid ass ginger that’s thrown his whole life away, pining after a guy who ain’t ever getting out of here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know _that_ ,” Mickey repeats, louder than Ian. “You’ve done good, Freckles, you’ve done so damn good. But I need you to do better. Better than me, better than _this_ – _I’m_ the only one of us with nowhere to go. Stop acting like you’re locked up too.”

“But I love you. Mickey, I want to do this. I love you.” It’s disgusting really – these words they use when they’re falling apart, clawing at the feelings they can’t ever bother to share when it could actually change things.

Mickey closes his eyes. “And since when’s love done shit for anybody?” When he opens them again, he sees Ian drop his head, his hair dangling. “You’re gonna be okay.”

There’s water in the air between them when he looks up again, and Mickey won’t blink for fear of spilling it to the table. “Please – I love you, Mickey. Just…fuck, please.”

“Take care of yourself, Ian.”

He hangs up the phone before Ian can say anything back. Ian stands as Mickey does, his fingernails clawing at the glass. He’s screaming, but Mickey doesn’t try to make out the words on his lips. He turns to the side, putting his hands out for the guard to cuff him. And for the first time, he doesn’t look back at Ian as the guard takes him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So firstly - this fic. I am writing it as a one-shot right now, but as you can probably tell - I've imagined a bit of a story before this, a reconciliation between the two of them. I have an idea of writing up some more pieces to this, about other times Ian visited before now, and how they rebuilt their relationship through prison glass. But, I'm so, SO busy right now, I don't think I truly have the time. Especially since I want to finish Fire Meets Gasoline too. 
> 
> Which, speaking of, I don't consider that fic abandoned. I'm just drowning under the weight of work, school, and internship for now. I'll be back, guys!


End file.
